


Space Heater

by cyanideSweetheart



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cuddles, I have so many feels for this ship, M/M, fluffy kissy cuteness, hold all these feels, mentions of past drug addiction, post-sburb/sgrub I guess, why can't I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideSweetheart/pseuds/cyanideSweetheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have always been cold. Cold-blooded, cold-skinned. Cold-hearted, even, to some extent now. People have to earn your respect, your friendship, since you got off the sopor, instead of you handing it out like free motherfucking candy to a bunch of wrigglers. Hell, sometimes you just get in the mood where you want to WRING A MOTHERFUCKER'S NECK LIKE A WET TOWEL, just to see how much of the miracle juice they've got flowing through their veins will come out. </p><p>He- he's everything you're not, and never will be. Heat. Life. Breath. He makes you feel warm, he thaws you out.</p><p>And you'd be a liar of unimaginable motherfucking proportions if you said you didn't love him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space Heater

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you are helplessly horns-over-heels in love with this boy.

You stare at him from across the room, where he's playing some sort of hand-held game, the screen lighting up his face from below. He nibbles on his nottom lip, tearing off little bits of the skin, and doesn't notice until brown blood(you wonder absently if it tastes like it looks, like shi- er, cocoa) wells up in the cuts. The others are doing their own things, off somewhere else, leaving just the two of you there. By yourselves.

You get the feeling he doesn't even know you're there, and you decide that this needs to be remedied.

When you clear your throat, he startles, blushes in embarassment, tries to regain his composure. "H-hey, Gamzee," he says, smiling a little and waving. For a moment it's obvious that he can't decide whether to return to his device or talk. In the end, he does end up continuing the game, which stings a little, but you just ask:

"Mind if a motherfucker up and joins you, Tavbro?" He glances over at you, visibly confused, but shakes his head no. Silently you cheer as you get up from your beanbag chair and move over to his pile of pillows, which you find very, very comfortable. It's shaped like a hill, with a space carved out on the slope so your wicked bro could recline and relax. You lay yourself down on the opposite side, down on your stomach and your head on the top so you could watch him play.

It seems to be a digital version of Fiduspawn, but you can't really tell. You never really got into games like that. Nepeta's roleplaying always seemed more fun, and besides, you liked writing, and not just raps. Still, you ask, "Watcha playin', Tavbro?" He responds with the name of a game series you don't know and forget almost immediately after he says it. You just nod and reply, "Cool, cool."

There is silence for a long time after that. You watch him wander through small pixellated forests and cities. He eventually starts telling you trivia about the game, and you start cheering him on during his battles. It's comfortable, and a part of you- the part that the sopor kept subdued- hates it, but you shove that aside to reach around and run your fingers through his mohawk. He flinches slightly and tenses up, but relaxes a moment later, allowing you to scratch his scalp like a meowbeast. His skin is warm like a light under your fingertips, your cool skin not used to the heat, and you both shiver from the contrast. Rumbling makes itself apparent, and you can feel his cranium vibrating slightly against your palms. 

His purr makes you melt inside, and you close your eyes, something catching in your throat that starts you purring too. 

The two of you wind up passed out on the pile, purring well into your sleep.

\-------------------

A week later, he creeps into your respiteblock, blanket wrapped around himself like a cocoon, and flops down on the bed(you all ran out of sopor a while back) next to you without a word. In a groggy, half-asleep haze, you pull him close to you, and he wiggles closer, curled up against your chest. He has to adjust his horns so he's not uncomfortable and not impaling you, but you move to accommodate him, and it all works itself out.

His body radiates warmth even through the blankets, and you love it. You've always been cold. Cold-blooded, cold-skinned. He's warmth, happiness. He thaws you out, breathes life into your freezing body. His presence feels like a space heater on a winter day, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

In the darkness you whisper,"Love you, Tavros," and press a kiss to his forehead with your chapped lips. You think you hear him mumble into your chest: 

"Love you too." 

A smile spreads across your lips as you drift off with him again, and for once, you don't have nightmares.


End file.
